First last love
by JessicaStarCrossed
Summary: A meeting occurred and all nations must attend. South Italy attended—must to everyones surprise. England looked bored as hell and Romano looked exhausted as fuck. There are things that must be cleared, his feelings for that certain somebody. Somehow, England couldn't—can't. Pairings: EngMano and slight Germany x America
**A.N.: **

**I don't own anything, not the picture I used, the Hetalia** **characters (but I wished I did, *sigh* I can only dream) they belong rightfully to mister** **Hidekaz Himaruya-sensei. Again, I don't own anything.**

 **I'm just a simple girl who loves and adores EngMano to the death and who thinks that the two tsunderes need more love. Like, _oh so much_! They are _so_ adorable together. *fangirls* **

**I hope you enjoy this one-shot (and it's a poor excuse to write EngMano...and fluff.)**

 **Have fun!**

* * *

 _15:30 (European time zone)_ _Reichstag_ _Berlin, Germany_

'We already past the lunch pause and the next would be something around four o'clock.' England looked at his watch, 'Thirty minutes more to go. Great.' the blond groaned, not loudly as he thought he would.

They were in a meeting this whole week and like always, things aren't going as the host had planned. It's a shame, he almost felt pity for Germany. But England wouldn't have handle it any better when it was him that was supposed to host. He can handle America's craziness and idiotic tendencies for a little while _and_ let's not forget to mention France groping advances. It drains the bloody hell out of him. And not to mention that these arguments are getting fiercer than ever. His life sucks. He signed, it's like he had nothing better to do anyways.

He looked around the conference room, scribbling here and there some random notes on his notepad that he wouldn't even bother to look at it afterwards.

Sitting across from the blond was South Italy with his head resting on his hand and his elbow on the table. The brunet looked—not to mention, he looked bored as hell—like he wanted to be somewhere else entirely, the Brit couldn't blame him. A question popped in his head; "Why is he here?" it's not like he doesn't have any right to come here! But he normally stays home when a meeting would occur. Oh, yeah, didn't he say something about North Italy catching the flu and was bedridden and that's why the southern part of Italy had to come to this meeting. Even how much he despises such meetings. It was useless anyways. Why bother coming?

England looked back at Germany who was rubbing his temple and continued his speech about global hunger. And America interrupted him with saying that a robot would be their salvation. Normally England would give a snide comment about his, yet again, a dumb and stupid idea—but now he doesn't care, he's to bloody tired to care anyways. He placed his elbows on the table, intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on the bridge it created. He sighed boredly, looking for distracting— _yet_ _again_ , his vibrant green eyes landed on Romano. He doesn't know why, but the git had this certain charm around him that draws and piques the blond's interest. He's like a magnet—and a handsome one... Wait what?

The wanker was busy slapping Prussia's prying hand away and ignoring Spain's annoying cooing. He felt pity for the Italian to handle those two obnoxious moves or the two in general. England had nothing against the two but they can be so _annoying_ sometimes, like _really_. But either way, he doesn't give a single, flying fuck. Romano can safe himself—he's man enough for that, the Brit thought.

Prussia and Spain grinned mischievously at each other and eyeing the oblivious Italian—or maybe he doesn't give a shit?—like he was their prey. A few moments later they made their move, England eyeing their every move with narrowed eyes. What are these two bloody, moronic twats thinking?

Each of them slit their hand carefully under the brunet's loose shirt that he didn't bother tucking in his khaki uniform trousers.

It made the blond's blood boil in his veins, oh he saw _red_. 'What the bloody hell are they thinking?!' He mentally screeched in his head, 'Aren't probably even thinking! And why isn't he doing anything against it?!'

A few seconds later...

Two fists collided with their face, they both fell from the chair from the cheer hard impact by none other than the said Italian, "Fuckers!" He yelled, eyes full with rage.

(The meeting was yet again interrupted. Poor Germany wanted to bang his head against the table or even _better,_ tail out this meeting. It was pointless anyway.)

 _That's_ the person he knew, his face smug.

"Ai! Roma, not cool!" came the hurt reply from Spain who rubbed his sore cheek and sitting back on his chair.

"Not awesome, mein freund." Prussia groaned, also rubbing his sore cheek, there was a fist mark.

"Idioti." Romano grumbled lowly, returning back to his previous position and giving a nod to Germany to continue this stupid meeting and it was also followed with a apologizing look.

The younger and much intelligenter of the German gave a awkward, tiny smile and proceeded to lecture the hell out of Prussia—just because he felt like his bruder needs better _public_ education. Which the so proclaimed "awesome" Prussian just shrugged it of.

The rumours are not _true_. Actually, Germany and South Italy get along pretty well, _especially_ when they are lecturing Veneziano about his laziness. Germany found out that the northern part was the laziest of the two, he found that out when he came to there shared house in Rome to deliver some papers that needed to be signed. He saw Romano with the huge stack of papers all done—from both the southern and northern political side—asleep in a weird and painful looking position. The brunet shot awake when he heard the other cough awkwardly, Germany could clearly see the lack of sleep the older nation had, he had dark bangs under his eyes, it seemed like he was trying to get it all done in a whole night—even _he,_ can't get _that_ amount of papers done in a whole night. He felt sympathy but respected the foul mouthed Italian all the more. So, that's the beginning of their awkward friendship.

"Atleast, you don't look bored and uninterested anymore." Spain whispered, leaning back in his seat and giving his former henchman a tiny smile.

Romano sighed and calming his rage, "Whatever." was the short reply. This time Romano didn't look to Germany but looked straight into England's green ones. _Busted_. He was caught staring. He rapidly looked away, a small blush of embarrassment crept on his porcelain face. _Fuck_ , he cursed mentally and scolding himself for undergoing such actions, he would look less suspicious if he just looked around for a bit and doodle in his notepad. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

He looked back to Romano cautiously. He saw the tan-skinned man staring at him skeptically, his head tilted slightly, his mouth a little bit open. He looked like he was questioning himself something.

Great, just what he wanted; to be judged.

He knew that the wanker wouldn't think like that, the blond knew him all to well for that. They were childhood friends when they were younger and still are actually, they haven't spoken much lately. When was the last time they spoke to each other? He pondered, Two 'till three months, was the answer he provided himself with.

The Italian sighed and just shrugged it off. He gave a small, friendly smile and a two-finger wave.

Friends...that's what they are. England retuned the favour.

Now that he could study his face closer, the git looked tired. You can't see the bangs under his eyes—it's probably not even there—but if you look close enough, you could see the tiredness in his eyes if you search through his beautiful, _beautiful_ eyes. A simple detail yet simple to miss and to look over. England knew almost everything about this wanker. How could he not even as a _child_ he was hard to figure out and he probably never could. Romano has so many details that you could look over if you don't look at him carefully. Even how he say things, there is always a double or maybe even a triple meeting behind his words or there is none at all. You never know with him. But maybe that's why he wanted to solve _the puzzle that_ was South Italy and stil _wants_ it. England's a _very_ curious person, it's in his nature but atleast he knows in whose people's business he can stick his nose in—not like *cough*America*cough* who doesn't give a jack shit for someone's privacy, the idiot doesn't even _know_ the word 'privacy'. Along the way, he gave up because he knew that he would never figure him out but maybe when he does, he would _gladly_ marvel and admire the masterpiece—and he would _never_ get enough of it.

The Italian looked back at the meeting. He followed Romano's eyesight, the git had a small smirk on his face.

America was—wait what? _Subtle_ flirting with an oblivious German. Where should he write that? _Subtle,_ was something that America doesn't knew, blame it on his boisterous and loud personality.

It looked like Romano knew about it, he saw that when America gave the brunet a wide smile and a tumbs-up and he mouthed something in response. England couldn't tell.

He glanced at his side, he also saw France grinning, whispering: "That's my boy."

Germany looked utterly confused...and Hungary looked quite the same only she added the shock.

Screw it, it's something that she _completely_ didn't have expected. (Looks like GerIta didn't even make it on the coast, oh how it was destroyed.) She ships it—why not?. Let GerAme or AmeGer ship sail!

Prussia snickered silently.

Spain fist-pumped the air, cheering silently.

Poor Germany looked flustered, he almost looked like he got claustrophobia. "Thirty minutes break," he called. Good timing, it was exactly four o'clock. "Please be back in the meeting room at the assigned time." was the last thing he said before fleeing out the conference room. Probably trying to collect and compose himself.

America looked slight disappointed, his signature smile drooped a bit before coming back with full force and he _practically_ bounced to Romano.

Romano petrified for a moment, well, he didn't expect that a ray of sunshine came to him. Oh, yeah, that's America. Or a blinding light that wanted to make him crawl in the darkest cave that existed in this world. Oh, wait a moment, that's America's smile. The brunet came out his choked daze but it was already to late. R.I.P. South Italy. He was attacked in a bearhug (he thought that his bone was pulverized), smothered to death that he almost suffocated, lifted from the ground and spun around in circles by a certain overly happy American. Guess _who_?

"Ah, dammit, idiota!" Romano shrieked as loud as he could, his voice was muffled by the ugly bomber jacket but it was effective, the idiot stopped spinning him around. The older nation looked like he was going to puke soon, which may be the case. "Let me go, bastard!" He head chopped America with his fist.

The blond dropped the fiery half-nation like he was a hot rock or something. "Ow! Fuck!" He gave a pained cry and rubbing the bruise. "Why did you do that?" He whined, small tears threatened to fall down his face.

 _Oh hell no!_ Romano shook his head. No fucking way in hell he wil feel guilty, dammit! Uhu, no way that he would fall for that shit. Not the puppy face, everything but not the puppy face. Please... Fuck. Oh, the guilt trip. the American looked like a kicked puppy and Romano does _not_ like kicking a puppy! They're too cute dammit! Fuck him, really, may he rot in hell. It's...killing...him. Ugh, the agony. He raked his hair through his hair, "I'm sorry, America." He was not good in apologizing—never is and never going to be.

In a split second the tears had vanished and was replaced with a blinding smile. The brunet narrowed his eyes, glaring pointedly at the oblivious American—nothing new.

He just shrugged it off, even if chills trailed down his spine and ignored it like the hero he is. He grasped the Italian's hands with his bigger ones and dragging him out the room. Romano was not even protesting. Something must be wrong.

Normally he would protest but seeing him smile so kindly at him makes him think that, yeah, he's loved. And has a caring friend. Even so, he felt so _exhausted_.

"They make a cute couple, non?" A French voice piqued in his ear.

"Yeah, they would." England replied, his voice had suddenly grown bitter. Why does his stomach churn and twist uncomfortable? Why does his heart ache? What's this feeling? It feels so foreign, something he hadn't felt in centuries. He thought that he would never feel it again. It just like that time...

He griped the table that his knuckles almost had turned white if not for a voice that snapped him out, "Someone looks jelly." Prussia singsonged, his normal cocky grin on his face.

"I'm not jealous, Prussia. Stop thinking stupid things." England said in a gruff voice. The blond stood up from his seat. "Should we not leave?" He questioned softly.

Prussia smiled kindly, "Follow your heart."

England nodded and swallowed, a lump has started to form in his throat, preventing him from speaking correctly and his signature intelligence. He can't think correctly. But... He knew exactly what the German was talking about. Sometimes, he questions himself if he even has a heart or feelings in general. He's supposed to be cold and his heart must be— _is_ made of ice. Three months ago, his heart started fluttering, making his heart beat faster whenever he was there. A weird feeling for him, something _ancient_. The Brit knew why, but he didn't _acknowledge_ it, _ignored_ it as much he could. That's why he cutted all contact with him, stopped talking with him and stopped seeing him...in fear for falling _deeper, harder, faster._ Because these sort of... _emotions_ _always_ brings pain and misery and he doesn't want it. It would lead to pain if it's not accepted, and he doesn't want it, couldn't handle it. It's better to let it lay and ignore it to his fullest. But he couldn't stop the fluttering of his heart and that his heartbeat started to beat faster whenever he would see him. He looked like a goddamn _angel_. He made his way to the open door, he turned around so that he was facing the small group of (ex-)nation(s), "Coming or not?"

Prussia snickered, yelling "Bier!" and hugging the Brit before releasing the slight annoyed blond.

Spain laughed wholeheartedly and when he passed the Brit he gave a friendly slap against his shoulder.

France waltzed out the door, giving a wink and blew a kiss to England's direction. The younger of the blond waved with his hand frantically and his nose crunched in disgust as if it personally had offended him. France just laughed it off.

England gave one last look at the empty spot, his eyes hazy just like glass. You could see the longing in his eyes, a commen desire but dangerous if you try to grasp it. He shot one last glance at the chair—he will make sure that he forgets him, no matter what the price may be. He turned abruptly, slamming the door while he was at it and he followed the Bad Touch Trio.

* * *

England lightly jogged, a bit hurried, he might be late if he stayed a bit longer. The blond doesn't like getting tardy. He passed corridor after corridor and made a sharp, left turn—he almost collided against the wall, _almost_. Damn it, he would be late if he's going at this pace, he started running faster and checking the watch on his left wrist, "Five more minutes." The blond saw something, rather _someone_ out of the corner of his eye. He stopped running, he almost lost his balance in the progress, was it not that he placed his right feet forward to catch his balance. He looked at the sleeping?—figure. The uniform looked quite familiar. He crouched down so that he could see the sleeping person better. He removed to bangs so that he could look at the face.

A hand shot forward, stopped England's arm and catching him by his wrist.

The island nation jumped a bit.

"You scared me, bastard." He whispered softly, his eyes cracked open and releasing his wrist.

"You gave me quite a scare, too, Romano." England responded, taking a seat next to the Mediterranean country.

Romano sighed, standing back on his foot and dusting his clothes off. He faced the blond but didn't look at him, he stared out the window that had a nice view on the garden. His face was grim and blank, "It's been a long time since we have talked to each other."

England eyed him before looking back at his folded hands, "Yes, it is indeed."

" _Why?_ " The brunet questioned, his voice hurt and sad.

England flinched, that's a question that he didn't want to anwser because he doesn't have a proper explanation or excuse. But, he knew all too good _why_. He can't— _couldn't_ answer it, he maybe never can. "You look tired."

The Italian huffed indignantly but didn't press it further, "I haven't have a proper sleep in a few days." He responded, "I'm tired and exhausted."

"So that's why." The blond mumbled to himself. Romano couldn't catch his words.

"The meeting had started." He announced. He pivoted on his heel but a hand grasped him before he could walk away and dragging him back down. The brunet sat between his legs and his head pressed against England's right shoulder. A leather gloved hand caressed his brown locks.

He looked up, confused by the other's action. He saw two electrifying green staring at him, a soft smile on his porcelain face, "Get some sleep." The Brit suggested, "You need it." He heard him mumble quietly, softly. He took his words for it and laid his head back on the other's his shoulder, he leaned with his body against England's left leg, his eyelids heavy and he could hear a faint sound of a steady heartbeat, lulling him to a deep and comfortable slumber in no time. His hand resting softly on his stomach, his right arm crossed over the other one and his legs over England's right leg.

His heart skipped a beat, fluttering against his chest. What's this feeling? Something he forgot all too long ago. Something ancient.

England stared at the sleeping nation for a while, soft snores coming from him—it was cute—and he was enchanted by the peaceful face. He really _did_ look like an angel, just like he expected him to be. He lay his hand on the brunet's shoulder and his other arm useless by his side.

He didn't knew what the current time may be. He almost fell asleep on many occasions but shot back awake—without disturbing the southern Italian nation. He felt like he was _guarding_ someone, _protecting_ him from every harm, _shielding_ him like he was his own child but _very_ possessive too... The blond chuckled softly. Romano was always a troublesome child, always attracting danger from every size even when I'm a child, I felt the need to protect him from the harm, always wanted to see that embarrassed blush and the tiny smile on his face when I kept him safe.

...

His heart skipped a beat.

...

Three months ago, his heart skipped a beat just like now, beating faster but still rhythmically.

Three moths ago, he felt his heart fluttering against his chest, just like now.

Something in his body felt warm, just like now.

His heart ached, not the bad thing...but with longing... Such a dangerous desire of his.

...

It was not going away; this feelings of his. He panicked. Please for the love of the Queen...just please, he begged mentally.

...

He looked back down at the sleeping nation. A fond smile crept on his face.

A door opened quietly, a head of blond hair poked out curiously and looking around in the supposed "empty" hallway.

Whom, England didn't knew.

Sky blue eyes landed on their huddled forms.

He placed a gloved finger over his lips, curving his mouth in a playful smile and his electrifying green eyes shone with mirth and an other ancient emotion—for him—that was easily to detect in those vibrant eyes.

He gave a blinding smile in response and gave a thumbs-up. He closed the door softly behind him, not wanting to disturb his friend. He knew that Romano was tired—but for him to sleep in a hallway? That must be some serious shit he's feeling with. Because the last time he disturbed the brunet's sleep around two o'clock in the morning, Was he met with an Italian fury in true form. It was not vanilla, he temporarily forgot that the said apoplectic Italian was _not_ a morning person. Oops.

The door opened again. The blond was carrying a sketchbook with him writing something down on it with a alcohol marker, "The meeting's over in 15 min." it says.

England nodded, tanking him silently. He didn't hear nor saw the bigger blond disappear back to the meeting. He was lost in his own train of thoughts. "Was it so late?" He murmered to himself—the brunet stirred slightly, he grunted something incoherent, words that the Brit didn't understand. Romano turned around so that he was facing the blond, his face in his neck. He could feel a tiny blush creeping on his face, "I should wake him up soon," England whispered to nobody in particular, "He would not like it when other nations see him like that."

"Arthur..." England looked back down, was he talking over him? There were ten thousands Arthurs. "England..." Romano slurred out in his sleepy state, nuzzling his nose in England's shoulder—he got the blond's attention. "Why...leave...me?" England frowned, "I...not...good?" far from it, the Brit thought, he shook his head, everything but that. "You...hate...me?"

"No, of course not!" He blurred out, frantically shaking his head. He doesn't hate him, far from it, it was quite the...opposite.

"Arthur?" Romano grabbed his green uniform jacket tight, "I...I...I...you..."

England didn't understand, what was it that he was trying to say? He what?! England signed in frustration, that's one of the reasons that he l-l-lo... Of course! How can he be so stupid! the Englishman smacked his own forehead.

Three months ago, he figured it out— _everything_... Now, it came back to slap him in his face. _Hard_. How can he be so stupid?! So dumb?! So oblivious. He had hurted the most important person in his immortal life.

The blond tilted Romano's head with two gloved fingers so that he could have a better view of the brunet's face, he brought his lips closer to the plump, pink lips, "Wake up sleeping beauty." He murmured softly... _lovingly_. He almost pulled back when an arm circled around his neck and a hand caressed his choppy, blond hair prevented him from doing so. He was shocked first, his mind went in overdrive, 'What's happening?' England questioned himself. A few seconds that was all he needed to recuperate and moved his lips in sync, his arms snaked around the slender waist, pulling and holding him closer.

Romano bit England's underlip, asking for entrance—something that the blond didn't have expected, he never thought that the git would take the lead...but he wasn't complaining, Romano managed to surprise him every change he got and it's sexy. England gladly opened his mouth, letting the wet tongue snake in his cavern, he moaned in ecstasy. Their tongues battled for dominance, but the Brit pulled on the longest string and explored Romano's wet cavern, mapping and memorizing every millimeter of it. England had always wondered what Romano would taste like, but he never imagined that it would be so _addicting_ ; the rich taste of tomatoes, the bitter taste of coffee mingled with the sweet taste of fresh fruit. He really needed more, _wanted_ more. But they needed to part for breath and he was rewarded with a gorgeous sight; the beautiful man slightly panting, the tan skin flushed in a wonderful red colour, his eyes half lidded that he could see parts those dazzling eyes and the sun shined on him, giving the illusion that he was gleaming in the sunset.

England kissed Romano one more time, two times, three times and holding him even closer that their body was touching—he could feel his body heat seeping through his clothes warming him up with a blissful sensation. He wanted to know if everything they done was real, that Romano was hear with him—here, right at this moment. He couldn't handle it if this was all just a pleasant dream. He couldn't even think how depressed he would be. His heart would be torn in peaces and shattering in thousands pieces.

A warm hand stroked his cheek, he leaned in the soft and comforting touch. "How long?" England asked, a vague way to question someone, but he _knew_ that Romano understood him clearly, he knew exactly what the Brit was talking about.

Small puddles of tears formed in his eyes, treated to spill, his eyes hazy, the colour of his eyes mixed in a different colour entirely. "You do-don't want to know." The brunet choked out, tears leaking from his eyes, green and hazel with small puddles of gold—that's what his eyes looked at the moment, how England would describe them. "Everyday, I watch you, waiting for you. Everyday again and over." He explained softly, whispering.

His green eyes softened to a colour of forest meadow. He wiped the stream of tears away with his leather gloved thumbs, "I'm so sorry," England apologized with his heart, looking guilty and sad that his angel was deeply hurt because of him—things would be different if he was honest to himself, to Romano, he doesn't deserve it to be threatened this way, to be leaded on. He doesn't deserve any of that crap, not that kind of bloody shite. "I'm so sorry, love. For all those times—I was scared, scared that you wouldn't accept my feelings... I couldn't handle it if you would reject me. I would be better of dead..." He sounded so sincere for everything he said, Romano doesn't have tithing twice—the bastard wouldn't lie about it, he couldn't, because once he loved someone, he would treasure them for always, until the end of times.

"For someone as intelligent and smart like you, you're pretty stupid and dumb." There was no bite in his words, none at all. Romano laughed lightheartedly, hitting England's firm chest with his fist.

That laugh, it was like a fairytale. It sound like the soft jingling of the bells, it was melodious and the smile itself was already beautiful. How can he be this lucky? He never knew, probably never would.

"We're cool?" England asked shyly, a pink hue dusting the bridge of his nose.

"When were we not?" The Italian retorted playfully back, his eyes shone with delight—something that England longed to see for a very long time. He always had wondered how his smile, h saw it countless time but always managed to impress him by the cheer beauty of it.

The green eyed Brit kissed him full on the lips passionately and lovingly, pressing him flush against his body. They parted for breath, a string of saliva connecting their lips. He chuckled lightly, happy with the deed state Romano was in; his eyes half lidded and his cheeks dusted with a light red colour. He snaked his left around the Italian's slender waist and rubbed his cheeks wanting to smeer that charming red all over his face. England sighed happily, nuzzling his nose in the crook of Romano's, he could smell the faint traces of cologne, vanilla and lavender—all the things that he liked. The scent itself was sweet yet tempting, it almost described Romano's personality—how funny, but it was true.

"Come on, love," Romano flushed at his pet name, hiding his face with his long brown bangs. England smiled fondly, tilting his head back up with his finger and giving a chaste kiss on those pink lips. "The meeting is almost finished." The Italian frowned at hearing the word "meeting", England snorted—he's not the only one, "You don't want them to see us like this or would you?" He teased, his eyes shone with mirth.

"Shigi!" He shrieked indignantly, "You bastard." The brunet punched the Englishman's shoulder with his right fist and standing abruptly back on his foot in a split second and crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"Ow!" England frowned and rubbing his right shoulder, trying to soothe the aching pain. He stands back on his foot... Romano could still pack a punch.

Romano rolled his eyes, "Booho." He said sarcastically, mocking him. South Italy looked up—England was slightly taller than him, not likes he's complaining, that means that the bastard must bent over to kiss him, hopefully he would get cramps in his neck. He kissed the Sam Brown belt—the place that he had hitted him—an innocent look in his eyes but England knew that it was far from innocent and fluttering his eyelashes against his sun kissed skin. "Better, you big baby?" He pinched the porcelain cheeks, squished his cheeks and laughing silently.

The blond rolled his vibrant green eyes by the other's childish demeanor, he took his hands in his own slight bigger ones, he felt the heat slipping through his black leather gloves. Romano intertwined their fingers—a perfect fit, like they're made for each other, _a match made in heaven_ —making England smile fondly, looking at him with love, he bowed like a real gentleman, "Can I pleasure you with a date, Lovino?" He asked in his perfect Queen's English—Romano's human name rolling smoothly off his tongue, his greens eyes shone mystically in the sunset. He offered his right arm.

"Sì, I thought you would never aks it, Artù." Romano smiled, the same emotions glinting in his hazel and green eyes freckled with gold—England's human name rolling with a tick Italian accent, it sended shivers running through his spine. The Italian willingly accepted the offered arm.

Walking off arm in arm, whispering sweet nothings. "This is how it's supposed to be." They said at the same time, looking at each other before bursting in laughter.

They didn't hear nor saw the meeting room doors open. they didn't hear their friends wishing them good luck, wishing them happiness—something that they both deserved. They didn't hear the clicking of cameras, they didn't saw the flashing light... They didn't hear nor saw anything of it... They were busy in they own little world, drowning in each other comfortable presence and bathing in each other love.

His heart swelled in his chest, a warm sensation took over his body. There is only one person in the entire world that could make him feel like this and that someone can't be replaced with everything he would have wished for, because Romano is that person he wished for... And he wouldn't trade it, the brunet is untraceable in so many ways. He loves everything from him, his flaws makes him perfect.

Their first last love.

Ti amo, mio caro.

I love you, my angel.

~~The end~~

* * *

 _Omake:_

Romano didn't expected to find America and Germany early in the morning in front of his doorstep. He almost slammed the door in their faces—seriously, it's early in the morning! They both _knew_ that Romano is _not_ a morning person. And _fuck_ was he tired—fucking Arthur keeping him _up all night_ , who would have thought that he would have that much stamina? And, _damn it_ , his ass _really_ hurts! He's always so rough with him. They started dating about six moths ago and their sex life was well...vanilla from the start.

They both stared at each other intensely. Normally, Romano wouldn't give in this quickly but seeing that he was only in one of England's white dress shirt and his boxershort made it even more awkward—and it was getting cold, the last thing he wanted was catching a cold. He sighed, raking a hand through his neat tamed hair and opening the door wider for his unexpected quests. They were greeted by a tired yawn and asked by the host if they want some coffee or other shit. They nodded, both stiff, he noted and he needed coffee as well—an expresso sound good at this moment.

He hummed thoughtfully, nah, coffee would do the trick. He sauntered to his kitchen, almost missing the door and that would result in him banging against the wall, not a good first impression. He rubbed his eyes, erupting another long yawn coming from his mouth and preparing the ingredients he needed for drip coffee before pressing the button, operating the device. The brunet leaned against the counter, waiting for the machine to finish making their coffee—he might as well set some tea for Arthur, the bastard would appreciate it. He looked through the kitchen door that connected to the living room, watching the pair through half lidded eyes.

They seem to be talking secretively about some crap that he couldn't figure out. Ah, coffee's ready, he stopped with studying their actions and movements along with their facial expressions. He grabbed three mugs for them and walked with it back to the living room, he motioned with his head for them to sit on the expensive looking Italian leather couch and setting their stuff on the antique coffee table. He yawned once again before fetching the coffee, sugar and milk in the kitchen, oh, don't forget the spoons. He placed it and poured coffee in each mug—the other things can they put in their own mug before taking a seat opposite the couple. He putted to sugar cubes in his Italian flag mug—he like things sweet but not as much like America that putted about six sugar cubes in his coffee, _if_ he had counted it right. He took a few delicate sips of it, letting the hot liquid flow in his mount—it always left a rich tast in his mouth. He could feel the caffeine starting to kick in after a few moments, he felt more awake but he's still going to take his siesta. "So," Romano began, his voice cute through the award atmosphere like knife, their attention now settled on him. "Why are you bastards here?" He questioned.

"It's not that early, Lovi!" America chirped—ugh, great, a morning person, just what he wanted right now, fan-fucking-tastic. "It's only nine o'clock!" He checked his with one more time so that he knew that he was right.

"Nine hours to early, Al." Responded back, his words dripped in sarcasm. "What is that you need from me?" He sipped his drink while his eyes kept looking between Germany and America.

"Well, Uhm..." Germany fumbled over his words, not knowing how to form his words or voicing it out.

Romano raised an eyebrow, it must be something embarrassing for a smart mouth like him not knowing what to say. "Shoot." the Italian said impatiently, motioning it with his hand—he doesn't have all the day.

They hear footsteps coming from the stairs, England yawned and ruffled his bed hair—can you imagine that Romano had the worst case o bed hair of the two? He almost crashed from the stairs, luckily for him it was the last step. "'Ello, luv." The Brit said groggily, his tick British accent slipping through his words and England nuzzled the Italian's neck from over the couch, he cold still reek the traces of Romano's normal scent but it was heavenly mingled with sweat. He blinked twice, letting his vibrant green eyes adjust to the streams of sunlight slipping through the curtain and he noticed the two sitting across them, his face scrunched up and he raised an impressive eyebrow, thinking thoughtfully—well as much as his hazy and sleepy mind allowed him to. "Hello America, Germany."

"Gatendag, England." the icy blue haired blond greeted formally.

America waved energetic, "Hey, Iggy!" and then you have this bloody twat.

"Don't call me with that ridiculous name, America."

"But it's cool!" The sky blue haired blond exclaimed, "Besides, you let Gilbert use it." He pouted.

"Because the git wouldn't stop doing it anyway and you too, it seems."

"We're here to ask you a question. We want both of your opinions." Germany explained himself, he cited the inside of his lip—a nervous sign, the two nations noted.

"Yeah, be honest, dudes!"

"England rubbed his temples, this is going to be a long day, he groaned, "I need tea if I don't want to get a headache." He made his way to the kitchen.

"I already made a pot tea, bastard!"

"Thanks, love!"

A while later he came back with a elegant cup of tea on a matching saucer. He putted two sugar cubes and a shot milk, he stirred the tea and took a delicate sip from it, his eyes fluttering shut before opening again and looked at the pair opposite of him, "So, what is it that you want to ask?" He questioned, waiting patiently for them and not like Romano who was tapping his fingers impatiently on the couch, he took another sip.

"We, uhm, we would like to know who can top the best." Germany awkwardly sipped this coffee, his face flushed red.

Wait what? They both sipped their drinks, trying to progress what sort of question he had asked.

Three.

Two.

One.

Romano spittend his coffee out and England choked on his tea. Romano wiped the traces of coffee away with a napkin and England crushed historically. "What?!" He yelled, "Why the fuck do you want to know that?!" The Italian shrieked, "Why the fuck do you think we want to answer that?!" He retorted back.

"Well, you know," America fumbled with his coffee mug, he pushed his glasses back up, another nervous sign.

The horrible couching had finally stopped and he could inhale fresh air. "No! We don't, wanker!" England voice boomed through the room, interrupting whatever the stupid git was even thinking. Or he wasn't?—that's a great possibility.

Germany dipped the coffee off his face that Romano had spitted on him.

"Sorry." The only brunet apologized.

"So, who do you think would be the best top?" America asked, blushing from his feet to his head.

The two older nations looked each other in the eyes, silently debating who's going to tell. They both glared at each other, their gazes sharpened and pointed—it's some kind of weird couple thing that you have a six sense or whatever to know what the other is thinking or might be thinking. And~, it seemed that Romano lost just because of a puppy face—that makes him swoon of how adorable it was, he's such a girl—and a pair of pleading green eyes—they were shining and gleaming like sunlight and shit. He scratched the base of his neck, what should he even say? It's kind of an... _uneasy_ question, all of them knew that. "Did you ask Hungary for her opinion?" Romano knew the reason why, and is they were in their shoes they would do the same thing, no question asked.

They both shook their head wildly, both had the same scared look in their eyes. "Nein!" He yelled, he winced at his own volume, it was louder than necessary. "You know what would happen if we did..." Germany muttered quietly.

The oldest of the blond snorted and took a sip of his now cold tea.

"You know what she would do," America had a horrid look in his eyes, his face crunched in pain by just thinking about it, "She would show us the mangas, demand us to do... _things_! you know how she would get."

"Besides, with you is that easy." wrong choice of of words, Lutz, now you done it.

The offended Italian stood brusquely on is foot, he almost looked like he could rip the German's head off with one go. He was beat red from anger—somehow he didn't faint—and had steam coming out his ears. He didn't rip his head of his body but trowed a silk pillow in the German's direction with much aggression whilst exclaiming, "I don't want to help anymore, bastardos!" He flipped them the bird, Romano walked off—England looked at the whole event with an amused glint in his eyes...that fucker—he didn't get far when a pair af arms lashed on his middle, preventing him from taking a step further in whatever direction he was going.

"Wait!" A familiar voice called out, planting his face in his backside, "You need to help us, Lovi!" America cried out desperately.

Romano took a few deep, calming breaths, he sighed once more, he did that multiple times already and runned his hand through his hair millions times already this day, and it wasn't even midday yet. How great (not). "Fine." He gave in, if he didn't the idiotic American would plead with his infamous puppy eyes. And he _always_ swoon like a freaking girl by it, dammit. The brunet managed to release himself from the American iron grip, that resulted in him falling face planting on the table—he groaned. Romano couldn't help letting a small smirk creeping on his scowling face. "Be careful, bastard, it's antique."

"No shit." America bluntly stated, sarcasm dripping of his words even when the coffee table muffled his sentence—wow, two words, Alfred, two fucking words. He stood back up and placed himself on the lap of the slight taller blond and giving his signature smile but with more love in his eyes. Germany flushed bright red, not used to public display—but yo can count the northern Italian hugging him all the time doesn't count because he wasn't his lover, _America_ is.

Romano plopped himself back on his couch and he scooted closer to England, their shoulders touching. England rolled his green eyes in annoyance, he snaked his arm around the brunet's hips and ranked him hard that he almost stumbled in his lap. He blushed a bit before looking away from England, his face frowning before going to a blank face for a moment. "How about you switch?"

They both looked at each other thoughtfully, pondering over what their friend had said. They more and longer they thought about, it sounded like a good idea. "Thanks, Lovi!" America showed his gratitude with giving the nation in a boon crushing hug.

The said American didn't got too far when the said nation kicked him over the leather couch—Italian badass style. Before dragging them both to his main door and kicking them out, literally. "I need my siesta!" He shouted for them to hear.

They both just laughed him off and they holded hands and talking about some shit that Romano couldn't care less.

Romano slammed his door shut, and sighed, letting his strong façade crumble and resting his on the cold door. A pair of arms sealed around his waist, a moist breath ghosted over his ear and whispering softly, "Does it really hurts that much?"

Romano rested his head on the blond's shoulder so that he could have a better view of those unnatural green eyes and responded in the same volume, "You don't want to know." He relaxed himself in his touch.

"How about I make it worse?" England smirked deviously.

~~End of omake~~

* * *

 **A.N.:**

 **Hello, lovelies, it's me again! How are you all doing? I hope you all have a nice day! Mine was pretty good so far! Welcome to my first poor attempt to write an one-shot but I think it's epic! It turned longer than expected but I could wrap it up in two o'clock at the morning! I think I spend about three hours writing this up and that includes editing but that was stretched over three** **days. I blame that on my lazy ass nature, but attest I'm full of ideas! I get easily bitten by plot _super duper_ adorable bunnies—they're oh so cute! **

**I fully give credit to the person(s) who drew it, was it not for him/her I wouldn't have come with this idea at all. I didn't asked for permission who drew it because I didn't know who he/she/they was/were, I you happen to know then please do inform me so that I can personally ask permission from him/her/them. I have a few links that you can search that picture:** **mostlikedtags instagram/ engmano or www. tumblr search/ engmano, just take the spaces out, you can find some real artworks on those sites! It's amazing. Check it out! It's worth your time, really it does! ^^**

 **Oh** **yeah, the ancient feeling that England felt was love! After America declared his independence, England didn't love anymore and Romano as there by his side and stuff and now he could confess his feelings and all the drama that comes along with it.**

 **I have a reason why I specially choose that place. one of the main reason that it was one of Germany's important places and stuff. It held so much history just like the colosseum. The Reichtag building had been reconstructed decades** **ago to a magnificent building, it was almost completely destroyed after WWII. And it has a really nice view. And yeah... That's it!**

 **Germany x America? You probably didn't expected that now did you? Well, me neither, but I'm a slut when it comes to crack pairings. I can enjoy main pairings but not as much as I do with rare pairs. I based the omake on my own inner conflict, I didn't know who of the two should top the best! Germany; the (slight) bigger one and older or America; the superpower? Maybe you can tell your opinions in the reviews?—you can pm too if you want! I love hearing your opinions. Besides, I saw drawings of them and it was so cute and so hot. Like goddamn. The omake itself is already a story. XD**

 **This is actually a 3pov despite that some or most of the times that it was in England's perspective, so I guess that it's kinda confusing but it somehow managed to test my writing** **skills and my ability to live in the said character head. It's a interning writing style, maybe I would use it more, it depends what kind of story I would write. I really like to experiment with things. I guess it was good?**

 **I really enjoyed writing this one-shot, I might make more of them in the future and I get inspired a lot. I already have a few upcoming ideas that I really want to write about!**

 **Tell me what you think about it! ^^ I would love to hear! :D**

 **So yeah that's it!**

 **I hope this been fulfilling your EngMano love, whores.**

 **Wait a sec! I'm an EngMano whore myself! Please don't feel offended, it was meant as a joke.**

 **Sincerely** **,**

 **-JessicaStarCrossed**


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